


The Scorched Apostate

by Hierophantastic



Category: A Practical Guide to Evil - erraticerrata
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Akua Is Good With Kids, Akua is the fun aunt who mutilated a coupled thousand souls, Alternate Universe - Tancred Lives, But Akua messed up my plans, Catherine trying and failing to convince Creation she doesn't care about Scorchio, Fluff and Angst, Fourteen is baby enough, Gen, Possibly OOC, Tancred Is A Good Boy, Tancred just wants Cat to have a boy/girlfriend, Tancred's POV, Tancred's got issues, This was supposed to be about Cat & Scorchio, but does not want her terrifying reputation to put a damper on your relationship with her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:22:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22600927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierophantastic/pseuds/Hierophantastic
Summary: "A priest stood above him, hand outstretched and a genial smile on his face, but Tancred could see the rot that hid behind the facade. The faintest flicker of surprise appeared on the man’s face before his own hand shot out and burned the impostor's head of his shoulders."I was upset about EE killing of Scorchio only TWO DAMN CHAPTERS AFTER HIS INTRODUCTION so I wrote this.Edit: so this is a series now, because my love for Tancred is bigger than my desire to do homework. But since it's not that big that I can be bothered to write an entire original story, it's just gonna focus on Tancred's relationship with rest of the cast and bend canon when I need it.Also I changed the name because 'More Perfect' implied that Calernia was somewhat perfect to begin with instead of the actual shitshow we know and love.
Relationships: Catherine Foundling & Akua Sahelian, Hakram Deadhan & Tancred, Tancred & Akua Sahelian, Tancred & Catherine Foundling
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	1. Fresh from the ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Some sentences were just copy pasted from the actual story, just so you know. 
> 
> And Maman is a word the french us to refer to their mother, and since in enlistment Tancred says “The disease was in them, same as it was in Maman." That's where I got that information from. I thought at first Maman could be another village he burned, until I googled it because it looked a lot like the dutch word for mother (mama).

Tancred dreamt of fire, that night. He hadn't dreamt of anything else in a long time.

He was back in Marserac, with flames spewing forth from his hands in his wicked imitation of Above’s Light, the tears that fell from his eyes evaporating almost instantly. He could hear the cries of people burning, smell their flesh baking. They all sounded the same, smelled the same. Just like Maman.

The wound on his face burned with them. Something was close.

He ran, like a coward. Away from the pain, away from the fear, away from his sins. He ran through the town until he collapsed against the doors of the House of Light. He pushed them open and closed them behind himself once inside, to keep out anything that might follow.

A priest lay on the floor, a charred hole through his chest.

 _I killed that man,_ Tancred thought. _I killed a lot of people._

He could see a light through the skylight and he was unsure whether it was the sun, or the moon, or something else. Maybe it was simply the flames consuming Marserac.

He didn't know why he walked towards the altar. That was where _she_ had found him. It was almost funny now, how he’d mistaken _her_ for an angel. _If she had been one, I’d be dead now._ He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed she wasn’t one or not.

Something beat against the doors. A vile stench drifted through the cracks. Flames whispered in his ears.

 _Tancred,_ they said, _wake up._

* * *

His eyes shot open, and suddenly, he could **See**.

A priest stood above him, hand outstretched and a genial smile on his face, but Tancred could see the rot that hid behind the facade. The faintest flicker of surprise appeared on the man’s face before his own hand shot out and burned the impostor's head of his shoulders. For a heartbeat, everything was quiet. He knew the Black Queen had seen what he did and in that moment he feared (hoped) she would kill him for it. But then the woman’s eyes slid around the camp and as one of the soldier’s gave the faintest twitch, she started moving. Shadow was at her beck and call, shaping itself into spears, and another woman with dark skin and raven hair fought by her side. She had a certain grace to her movements, which mixed so well the Black Queen’s own it was almost as if she was a shadow herself. 

He was snapped out of his observation when one undead approached where he sat, still frozen on his blanket, but before he could reach Tancred the other woman had cut it to pieces with strings of darkness. It seemed to be the last one.

“Are you unhurt?” she asked him, with what sounded like genuine concern in her tone.

“I am fine. I’m sorry I was so useless. I could not do anything-”

The woman smiled at him, a kind smile that made her beautiful face soften. “Don’t be modest. Without your senses, who knows how long it would have taken us to notice the infiltration so soon. You saved many lives, Tancred.” Her eyes were fixed on his, never straying to his scar with pitying looks. 

_She is nice,_ Tancred thought, a little surprised.

The Black Queen approached now from where she had been inspecting the bodies, and he hurriedly stood up and straightened his back. Briefly, he felt her gaze inspecting him. She must have been satisfied, because he could see her tense posture relaxing a little and she gave him a nod. “Akua is right. You alerted us sooner than we could have noticed them ourselves,” she said in a warm tone. Then she turned to her companion. “Akua, what do you think of these ghouls?”

Tancred listened attentively to the conversation. If he was going to fight the Dead King’s hordes, any information he could gather was important. Once the other woman -Akua, she was called, and the name sounded familiar but he couldn’t recall why- had given her thoughts the Black Queen ordered her to inspect the corpses and put them into something called the 'Night', which he assumed had something to do with the shadows they used to fight.

“Of course, heart of my heart,” she replied, and Tancred’s eye, the one that could still see perfectly, bounced between the two of them. The Black Queen caught it and Tancred felt himself still, frozen by his nerves, until she rolled her eyes.

“No, boy, she’s not my lover either. I’m not in a relationship at the moment.”

Akua’s eyebrows rose in question, but the Black Queen shook her head. Akua glanced at him. “I’ll ask the boy, later, then. It sounds like an amusing tale,” she said, and, with a last smile aimed at Tancred, exited the conversation to go do as her queen had bid.

"She's nice," he said, voicing his earlier thoughts. The Black Queen fixed him with an incredulous look and her lips quirked upwards in a grin. He had the impression she was trying hard not too laugh. Tancred couldn't help but feel a little proud at that. Then, the Black Queen managed to dash that pride with her next words and replace it with terror.

"That was Akua Sahelian, the Doom of Liesse. Nice wouldn't be the word I'd use, but she's gotten better."

Tancred's thoughts ground to a halt as he tried to align everything he'd heard about the Doom of Liesse with the nice woman who had saved his life. He felt like he was going to have a lot of crises about Villains in the future, considering how he was one now. He felt the Black Queen's eyes on him, silently urging him to speak. "Doesn't she, uhm, eat babies and rule over devils, sir?"

"I doubt she'd do the first without a very good strategical reason, and I forbade the second. And considering I quite literally ripped her heart out of her chest, she doesn't really have a choice but to listen." Tancred took all this in, his thoughts racing. The Doom of Liesse was a mage. Was she going to be the one teaching him? She seemed nice, but the stories about the Doom of Liesse were very different than the ones about the Black Queen. The first was a diabolical sorceress who murdered thousands to make a city float, and the second a ruthless warlord who was one of the leaders in the war against the Dead King and part of the Grand Alliance.

"Will she- Will she teach me, sir? Magic, I mean." he asked hesitantly. The Black Queen cocked her head in thought.

"Maybe. It will be difficult to pry Masego away from his research long enough to properly teach you, although he might be lured by your odd magic." She looked at him. "Why? Would you like her to?" Tancred quickly shook his head. The Black Queen frowned.

"You will fight beside many people who have done terrible things, Tancred. Heroes and Villains alike. At least Akua is pleasant company. Sometimes." She glanced at him and then over at where the other woman was sinking the corpses in a shadowy substance. "Maybe you should just give her a chance. A fresh start." Tancred wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that, with how softly she'd murmured it. When Tancred didn't reply she dropped the entire subject.

"Let's head back to camp first, we can talk about this later."

* * *

The Twilight Ways were beautiful, in Tancred's honest opinion. Grassy hills stretched as far as the eye could see, lit by the orange-pink light of dusk, or maybe dawn. A winding path crept through the grass and in the distance he could see ruins. Tancred normally did not like walking, but everything about this realm seemed to invite travel, and he thought that maybe walking in this place wouldn't be so bad.

Too bad he was flying.

Tancred had never known he was afraid of heights, until literally the only thing between him and a lethal drop was an undead, winged horse. His hands were holding on tight to Zombie's -and he never thought that the damned _Black Queen_ would name her undead horse _Zombie_ , but here he was- manes. The horse whinnied once, tugging her head forward and almost pulling Tancred of her back. He could feel the Black Queen shake behind him. Was she laughing at him?

"You're pulling her hair. She'd like you to let go," the Black Queen said. Which didn't make sense, because since when did the most notorious villain speak horse, and why would a necromantic construct feel pain? He voiced that second thought. The Black Queen shrugged. "Zombie's awfully intelligent. I think it has something to do with how I raised her using Winter, but most of the things she does aren't even on my command."

That did not reassure Tancred.

Sighing the Black Queen put an arm around him and pulled him back to steady him against her stomach, which was odd, because he wasn't that much shorter than her. The Black Queen was, surprisingly, not very tall. It felt nice, though.

A black swan quacked from beside them, and he looked over to where the Doom of Liesse was flying. She was looking at them with her beady bird eyes, and radiating an air of amusement. Tancred still did not know what to think of her. Seeing her turn into a swan was very impressive, though.

Tancred got his wish when Zombie suddenly dove for two raised stones between which the swan had disappeared. The horse's hooves hit solid ground and as they returned to Creation Tancred could feel a hand passing through his hair, he turned his head ever so slightly, only to see the Black Queen smirking at him in amusement. "I was not combing your hair, if that's what you want to know. That's simply the sensation of exiting the Twilight Ways." Tancred turned back, face flushed, and wasted no time in asking if he could get of the horse know. Zombie whinnied in what might have been offence, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

As soon as his feet hit the ground he sent a small prayer to the Gods Above, before stopping himself. Was he still allowed to? Should he pray to the Gods Below now? Would Above even hear him if he prayed now?

_Have they ever heard me?_

"Tancred." Tancred flinched a little at the Praesi woman's voice so close, and her face did something weird before the smile returned. "We're here," she said.

The military camp seemed to be heavily defended, with spikes and magical wards, but Tancred had little to no knowledge of defending a military camp. He could see faint lights glimmer above the tents, and those somehow displeased the Black Queen, who regarded them with a heavy frown.

“Akua?” She prompted.

“It was activated when there were no accumulated impurities to purge,” the woman said, sounding displeased. Tancred did not know what that meant, but it sounded important so he kept listening. 

“And what would that actually do?” the Black Queen asked.

“Still send out a pulse of sorcery,” the Doom of Liesse answered. “Yet it would be weaker, and the sorcery would be drawn from wards that are functioning as intended. Likely it would damage them, perhaps even crack the wardstones.”

The Black Queen spoke in a language Tancred did not know, but the content of her words were clear enough from the vehemence she put in them and the way the Doom of Liesse put her hands over Tancred's ears. Tancred was not amused by this. Neither was the Black Queen, according to her disapproving frown, but then her face turned pensive as she regarded the two of them.

Whatever she had been thinking of had to wait, as they were now approaching the guards waiting in front of the entrance. Tancred felt a few curious glances linger on him and his scar, and one of the soldiers approached the trio with a carved box. Tancred could see the magic it held and regarded it somewhat warily, but neither of his companions moved away from the box, so he let the man approach him. Nothing happened.

As the soldiers reported to the Black Queen, Tancred took his chance to inspect them. There seemed to be a few Levantine priests, mercenaries, and the one who held the box must have been Callowan. She was avoiding the Doom of Liesse quite obviously. They were speaking in Lower Miezan so Tancred had no idea what they were talking about.

Bored, Tancred glanced around, only to quickly close his one good eye so it wouldn't be accidentally burned out by the excessively flamboyant man approaching. Tancred squinted, and his mouth hung slightly open as he realised the man's hair was _three different colours._ He'd never seen someone dressed so colourful.

"Captain Raphael?" the Black Queen asked in Chantant, allowing Tancred to once again follow the conversation.

“We meet once more, Black Queen,” the Proceran boldly replied. “A strange turn of fate, that would see us fight side by side when we were once enemies.” So they had met before? 

"Yes," the Black Queen said, obviously lying, "That is true."

The Doom of Liesse stiffened a bit. When Tancred caught her eye she flashed him an amused smirk, so quick nobody else could have noticed, except maybe for the Black Queen herself. She had a special awareness when it came to the other woman, which probably came from owning her body and soul. The Black Queen had told him about how the woman had become a shade during their ride through the Twilight Ways, but there was still something so _human_ about her.

The conversation between the Captain and the Queen had moved on, and the woman was walking now. Tancred moved to follow her, when Captain Raphael offered one of the most notorious Villains of the age his arm. Tancred watched unblinkingly as the Black Queen, a little baffled, accepted it. The Doom's eyebrow's rose ever so slowly. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him curiously.

He regarded her for a moment. "Back at the camp, the Black Queen said she wasn't in a relationship _at that moment,_ " he whispered back. The Doom of Liesse smirked and let out a low huff of laughter.

"By the Gods, Indrani is going to _love you._ "

Tancred did not know who that was, and if he did he didn't recognise their name. He did not know anyone here by their name, except for the Black Queen, but she was, while kind at times, also strict and slightly stand-offish and he couldn't simply call the _Black Queen_ by name, and the Doom of Liesse. The Doom of Liesse who had murdered an entire city for power. Who was surprisingly kind, and smiled a lot at him, and maybe a terrible person, but _so was_ _he._ He had murdered _children_ , for Gods' sakes. Burned them alive. Killed a _priest_ in the House of Light. Killed his _own mother._

A familiar wave of loneliness came over him. He'd been travelling alone, ever since Maman had fallen ill. He still remembered how she had begged him to save her, save himself, but he _couldn't,_ and then the Black Queen had come and he'd thought maybe, just _maybe_ , he didn't have to be alone. 

His eyes drifted downwards, together with his mood. The Praesi woman, ever observant, noticed, golden eyes showing hints of concern. "Tancred?" she asked.

"Can I-" he began, hesitantly. The Black Queen had told him to call her sir, but her companion had done no such thing. Was he overstepping his bounds? Would she tell him to call her sir too? Would she tear out his soul and use it to make a flying fortress? No. There was no way the Queen of Callow would let that happen. "Can I call you Akua?" he asked her softly, not looking up.

If he had, he'd have seen Akua's face go suddenly still, before a soft smile spread over her face. "Of course, dear," she whispered back, and when he did look back up there was a happiness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. It stayed there, even when Captain Raphael left and she went back to walk beside the Black Queen to talk business.

Tancred had been drafted for war, and he knew the true terror had yet to begin. But at least he wouldn't be alone anymore. There was a spring in his step that only intensified when he realised the Alaman Captain's flirting had put a similar spring into the Queen's step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catherine Foundling, well-known Story-bender: so how can I convince the Narrative I don't care about this kid so it won't kill me off as a mentor figure?
> 
> Akua Sahelian, well-known bitch: this is my child now


	2. Apostate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's Hakram Dadhand! Or the Dadjutant? I don't know.

When Tancred first laid eyes on the imposing orcs with one skeletal and one spectral hand, his chestplate burnt black, he knew who he was looking at immediately. The Black Queen and the Doo- _Akua_ might not have any physical traits he’d immediately recognised, but Hakram Deadhand honoured his name. Although maybe it should be Deadhands.

He strode through the Levantine armsmen, heads taller than them and not caring how they had to hastily move aside, to grasp the Black Queen’s arm. “Catherine,” he said in a relieved tone of voice. “I’d wondered if you were ambushed. Beastmaster knew little, but it seemed likely.”

“We almost were,” the Black Queen replied. “Luckily, our newest recruit has some extraordinary senses, and alerted us before they could strike.” She motioned for Tancred to step forward. He did so, albeit a little nervous. "Hakram, this is Tancred, the Scorched Apostate. Tancred, this is Hakram Deadhand, the Adjutant.”

The massive orc offered his arm, which Tancred took hesitantly. “Extraordinary senses? What did she mean by that?” the Adjutant asked, and Tancred shot a questioning look at the Black Queen, who merely nodded.

“It was a sort of ghoul that could shapeshift, sir, but I could **See** them.” The Adjutant grimaced.

“That would have been useful here. They struck here too, except nobody noticed until they were already in.”

The Adjutant turned while talking, leading them through the camp. He settled naturally at the Black Queen’s right side, Tancred noticed, and her shoulders relaxed in a way they hadn’t since he’d first seen her. She had always seemed to carry herself as if the weight of the world itself rested on her shoulders. Akua and himself walked behind them.

“We stopped them before they could do what they were sent for, but not without losses,” the orc continued. “We also found a weakness in our defences. The Order of the Broken Bells.” From there, the talk turned to the aftermath of the attack at the camp. Tancred tried to keep up with it, but the most he could gather was that people had died or gotten hurt and that the White Knight had a new helper with healing abilities. 

When the Adjutant said that there was something wrong with the wardstones, Akua sent the Black Queen a questioning look. “Go,” she said, “I’ll want a damage assessment as soon as you can deliver.” Tancred fingered the hem of his shirt nervously at that.

Akua bowed to the Queen, shot Tancred an encouraging smile, and melted into the nearest shadows. Tancred stared at the spot where she had disappeared a moment longer before he turned back, only to find the other two watching him. The Adjutant’s face was blank, but the Black Queen wore that same pensive frown on her face she had earlier. Abruptly, she turned around, motioning for the Adjutant to continue on their way.

Odd.

* * *

It was not long before they arrived at the healer’s tent, where a soldier informed them that the White Knight was inside as well. The tiny smile that appeared on the Black Queen’s face at the news that the famous Hero was just inside was a little surreal, Tancred had to admit.

When they entered the tent the Adjutant went first, and he positioned himself besides the entrance. Then the Black Queen came, with Tancred in her footsteps. The first thing that drew his eye was the wounded, half-naked man being tended to by a healer. He tried to get up when he noticed the Black Queen, but she told him to stay down. “My queenly honour will withstand your staying seated.”

“Much obliged, Your Majesty,” the man replied. He was careful not to move his head this time, having been levied a heavy frown by the healer, who didn’t seem much older than Tancred, in front of him.

“The nerves were almost healed,” the young girl mourned. “We’ll have to start over, Sir Brandon. Please remain still, if it pleases you.”

Tancred couldn’t help but watch her potent Light with envy. _If she had been at Marserac, if she had been with Maman-_

A light tap to the back of his head disrupted his thoughts, and when he looked up it was the Adjutant standing behind him, his face expressionless and arms folded. His eyes glanced down and Tancred had to do his best not to flinch under their gaze.

“You were brooding,” the Adjutant said as explanation. Tancred did not argue with him. 

He instead focused on what the White Knight was saying, about the Revenant and Pascale, and felt a fiery anger rise up within him. Was this Plague-Maker the reason Maman had died? Was he why Marserac had to burn? 

_No. You were._

Tancred grimaced, hoping nobody would take note of his worsening mood, except he couldn’t keep it in anymore when they came to Pascale’s part in the tale.

“Lucky us you’d learned enough of the Light by then to pick up on the plague,” the Black Queen had warmly told the girl, the same way she’d complimented Tancred when he’d outed the ghouls at the camp. Tancred could see her blush. 

“I had not, Your Majesty,” she admitted. “My father was a wizard, who taught me of the Three Tells and the Seven Essences. Yet even so, magic would have failed. Yet my prayers were answered by Above, in our hour of need.”

“You’re a mage.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought about it. Pascale looked at him, a little surprised. He hadn’t said anything since they’d entered the tent, preferring not to draw attention to himself. 

“I was,” the young girl told him happily. “When I became the Stalwart Apostle the sorcery vanished from my veins, and the Light finally answered my prayers.” Her eyes drifted towards his scar, and every part of Tancred wanted to ask _why, what made them listen to you, and why not to me,_ but she was quicker.

“I might be able to heal it at least so that you get your eyesight back, If-”

“I don’t want your _help!”_ Tancred snapped, glaring at her, and it came out a little harsher than he’d expected by the look on her face.

“Tancred,” the Black Queen said, and it was enough to make him look down at his boots in shame. Still.

“But why-” he began.

“We’ll talk later,” the Black Queen interrupted him. “Hakram, could you show him where he can sleep?”

The Adjutant nodded, laid a broad hand on Tancred’s back, and led him out the tent, his eyes still cast downwards.

* * *

Tancred followed the Adjutant through the encampment, his face hot with both rage and shame. Why did they listen to her? Why not to him? Was something wrong with him? Why did he have to burn Marserac? His eyes were still aimed at the ground, and so he barely avoided running into a soldier. He stepped aside quickly when the man entered his sight, stumbling a little, but the Adjutant steadied him with one arm, his dead hand solid on his shoulder. "Eyes up. Watch where your walking," he said gruffly.

Tancred did so, shoulders tense. They relaxed when the Adjutant withdrew his hand.

Apparently deciding that his curiosity about the new recruit outweighed the benefits of walking in silence, the orc struck up a conversation. "So," he began. "You seemed awfully attached to the shade."

"She's nice," Tancred muttered shyly, tacking on a belated 'sir'. It was probably weird for them to see a him imprint on the Doom of Liesse like a lost duckling. It was weird for him too, and he ducked his head in embarrassment. The Adjutant tapped it again, and Tancred looked up just in time to avoid a few priests. 

"I don't believe I've ever heard anyone call her 'nice' before. Catherine must have liked that."

"She very nearly started laughing, sir," Tancred replied, the good part of his lips curled up in a quiet smile. Somehow, the large orc had banished his dark mood to the back of his mind.

"Hm," the Adjutant said. "Was this before or after the ghouls attacked you?"

And his good mood was gone. "...After, sir."

The Adjutant glanced at him, obviously noting his sour mood. "You have an Aspect, right? See? Do you have any others?"

"No, sir. Just the one." Did the Adjutant have more than one Aspect, as they were called?

"Don't worry about it, you're still fresh into your name. They'll come."

"They will?" Tancred asked, surprised. The orc chuckled.

"Every Named has three Aspects. Catherine understands it much better, I'm sure she'll explain it later. Ah, here we are." The Adjutant had led them to a large tent, with guards flanking the entrance. For a moment, Tancred thought he'd be sleeping _there,_ which would be ridiculous but also a little bit amazing, but then they walked past it where a few poles, a large and folded piece of cloth, a bedroll, and a small chest lay waiting.

"That over there is Catherine's tent, don't try to enter it without permission. You'll be sleeping here once you set up your tent," the Adjutant said, gesturing to the equipment. Tancred scratched played with his hands,looking over the poles and cloth. When travelling, he used to just find shelter or sleep under the blanket he'd lost in Marserac.

"Uhm, sir?" he asked nervously. The Adjutant raised an eyebrow.

"I've never set up a tent before, sir."

Again, the orc chuckled lowly and Tancred could feel his ears turning red. "I'll help you, boy. Don't worry."

"I'm not a boy! I'm fourteen! Sir."

There was no outward reaction to the revelation of his age, except for the Adjutant shooting him a pointed look, as if to say, 'my point exactly'.

* * *

When they were done setting up the tent, the Adjutant took Tancred into the Black Queen's tent to wait for her there. It's contents were much more luxurious than those of Tancred's tent, but that was a given considering who she was. The Adjutant and him took place at a carved table, depicting several scenes the Adjutant was all too happy to clarify.

"-and this is Vivienne, back when she still was the Thief, stealing the Sun from the Summer Fae. Although I remember her wearing a little more clothing." Tancred simply hummed, his ears red and eyes firmly aimed up. Whoever had carved it must have been very brave, to engrave it on the Black Queen's table. 

He liked the Adjutant, he'd decided. The orc was tall, and intimidating, and his hands were terrifying, but he was kind, in his own practical way. He managed to slip question about Tancred right into their conversation without making him feel like he was being interrogated.

The tentflap opened and in stepped the Black Queen. Her eyes landed first on the Adjutant and then on Tancred, but there was no surprise visible. She had probably been informed by the guards. She limped to her desk, her staff melting into the shadows.

"Catherine," the Adjutant greeted her. "Were you aware Indrani has been carving scantily clad men and women on your table?"

The Black Queen raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hold back her smirk as she opened a drawer. "And?" she asked.

The Adjutant rolled his eyes.

The she turned her attention to Tancred, and he was abruptly reminded of his behaviour back in the healing tent. He avoided her gaze, but couldn't deafen himself to the sigh she let out. "Hakram, could you leave us for a moment?"

"Of course," the Adjutant replied, rising from the table to leave the tent. When he was gone the woman first took a moment to rummage through her desk drawer, extracting a pouch and a pipe. She then dropped herself in the seat behind it, an armchair that looked sinfully comfortable. Raising an eyebrow at Tancred while lighting her pipe with a black flame, she said, "If you think I'm planning to leave this seat you're sorely mistaken. Drag a chair over here."

Tancred did so, albeit reluctantly. They sat in silence for a while. 

"Speak," said the Black Queen.

"It's not _fair_ ," he began, and he could almost _hear_ her eyes roll. "Why does she get to wield the Light? Why does she get to heal people? Why not me? _What is wrong with me?"_ His shoulders shake and his jaw trembles, but he simply _doesn't understand._ Did the Gods think he was unworthy? Did they think Maman deserved to burn? The Black Queen's voice brought his attention back to the present.

"You know how the Book of All Things says that one day you will have to choose to be Good or Evil, and it's the only choice that ever matters?" Tancred nodded mutely. That passage had been bouncing around his head the entire time at Marserac. _After this,_ he'd thought, _nothing else matters._

Then the Black Queen had come along and shown him that was the wrong idea.

"It's bullshit," she continued, after taking a drag from her pipe. Tancred's brow rose up in surprise. "Don't be so surprised, boy. I'm a Villain, after all. But the thing is, we don't get to choose whether or not we'll be Heroes. Those Bastards Above do. It's them that hand out the swords from lakes, or special prophecies, or whatever a Hero needs. It's them that make sure their precious Heroes won't need to even dirty their little finger, because they'll always have a new neat trick at hand.

"So it's bullshit. Because if you don't get chosen to be a Hero, and something terrible is going on, you can either sit back and do nothing, or decide enough is enough and go fish your own damn sword out of the lake. In the end, when it comes to the capital letters, the only choice you can make yourself is Evil or nothing." She tapped a finger against her pipe, contemplating. "Not that not having a Name makes you useless, I mean, Hasenbach doesn't have one, nor does Papenheim."

"So you think I made the right decision at Marserac, sir?" he forced through his teeth. She'd said it was necessary before, but to think of it as _right._..

"I think you made the best possible decision you could have, which was to _d_ _o something._ "

"But I killed-"

"Do you even know how many lives you've saved, Tancred?" she interrupted him, her tone brooking no argument. "If that caravan had left the town we would've had an outbreak at our backs, and trying to quell it would have made us late for the winter offensive. Not the mention the fact that your specific powers are infinitely more useful in fighting the Dead King than those of another healer."

"But if I could have healed it, or if she had been there-" Another sigh, harsher this time. Tancred stopped talking automatically.

"Don't blame her for using a power to help people when you would have done the same thing. If anything, blame the fuckers who denied you that same power."

The words registered slowly in his mind. It was just such a foreign idea. Maman had always been a devout woman, to the point that she'd rather burn than turn into one of the Dead King's puppets. "You want me... to blame the Gods."

"It's not that difficult. Just say 'fuck you' and wave your finger at the sky. I mean, you're a kid, but I bet you know which finger to use."

But the Gods were- Maman had always impressed upon him the importance of prayer, of showing the Gods Above your gratitude, and ask them for forgiveness, and ask them for help when you needed it. _"The Gods love all, Tancred, and will help all if you ask them. Remember that."_

Except. They didn't help Maman. They didn't help Marserac. They didn't help _him,_ even though he'd gotten down to his knees and begged.

"I suppose," the Scorched Apostate began. "I suppose, you are right." And he could feel the undeniable weight behind those words, as if the last of the bindings to his past had been cut away. He looked up to meet her gaze, a tentative smile on his disfigured face.

The Black Queen grinned back at him, seeming weirdly proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't convince me Indrani wouldn't carve inappropriate images onto Cat's fancy table, nor can you convince me that Cat wouldn't appreciate them.
> 
> Also, awww, baby's first heresy!


End file.
